


The Devil's Last Battle

by thedreamingowl



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Descriptions of violence and blood, Even Gretel because I love her, Everyone Is Alive, F/F, F/M, I'll probably change this to Mature later, M/M, OCs - Freeform, Possible eventual explicit sexual content, Post Shadowhunters season 1, multiple POVs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 09:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9812936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedreamingowl/pseuds/thedreamingowl
Summary: With Valentine still on the loose, an unexpected attack means that Downworlders and Shadowhunters must join forces to counter demonic forces. There is more trouble brewing as old secrets are revealed, friendships are tested and close ones go missing.





	

Counting on the darkness to hide him, Luke was completely still. He could hear his heart beat in his ribcage, a lot more slowly than if he were in his human form, as well as those of twenty others in the vicinity, his pack having spread out as he had instructed. Little tendrils of consciousness connected him to each one of them in their wolf form, informing him of their exact positions. He sometimes thought that this connection was the only thing keeping him sane during their numerous fights, comforting him that his pack, his responsibility, his family, was safe.

A slight motion some fifty feet in front of him brought him back to their current predicament. A dozen shadows were moving with jerky, graceless movements, laboriously making their way out of an abandoned warehouse towards the pack’s ambush. Maia had spotted them in the afternoon while on a patrol, and alerted him of unusual activity at the docks. Luke supposed “unusual” was the kindest word he could use to describe these creatures, even as their stench grew more pronounced the closer they got, some ambiguous mixture of rotting eggs and ammonia which made his eyes water. Their form was vaguely humanoid, but decidedly not human, and he thought they bore a vague resemblance to Freddie Krueger.

 _Now._ He sent the mental command with as much authority as he could muster and the response from the pack was immediate, wolves leaping forward in unison to attack the creatures, who momentarily stopped in their tracks in befuddlement before roaring and clumsily trying to punch the wolves away. As he sank his teeth into one of them and ripped its arm away, Luke almost choked at the foul taste, worse than he could have imagined.

So much for having dinner with Jocelyn.

A fist headed towards his jaw and he ducked. He bit his assailant’s leg and narrowly avoided the resulting kick to the ribs. He knocked it backwards and tore the other arm apart but the beast kept wiggling. The fight was brutal, merciless. Why was the thing not dying? The creatures seemed impervious to the wolves’ attacks, attempting to fight back even as their limbs were detached from their bodies, and they would have probably have had an upper hand, if not for Magnus Bane.

Luke watched the warlock work his magic, standing a few feet behind the brawl, whips of blue light trapping the creatures, with all the grace and lethality of the sea during a storm. Magnus’s movements were precise, nearly choreographed, and Luke was, not for the first time, grateful for his friend. His magic formed an unbreakable cage around all of the creatures, who started groaning loudly, almost in anguish.

And then, they stopped. It was abrupt, unexpected, a ringing silence in the air as all of their targets dropped to the ground, apparently lifeless. All around him, Luke could hear the panting of the other wolves, and he instinctively did a headcount. Alaric was fine, so were Maia, Gretel… They were fine. They were all fine.

The blue light dimmed and disappeared, and Magnus stepped closer to the bodies on the ground, ear cuff glinting in the moonlight and an undecipherable expression on his face as he knelt next to them and gingerly prodded one of the corpses with a finger, the air subtly crackling with electricity as he examined it.

-“You’d better change back to your human form and get some clothes, Lucian,” he said in his characteristic sing-song tone, though Luke heard a rare undertone of concern. “I think we should let the Institute know about this.”

* * *

 

Magnus needed a drink.

He had woken up to an empty bed and “ _Something came up, I have to go_ ” scrawled on a post-it note stuck onto the headboard. Then, he found out that Elias had said something to aggravate the Seelie Queen and Magnus had had to go to the Seelie Court to mediate the tension before it ended up into an unnecessary Downworld War. The Mumbai Institute had gotten Divya to strengthen their wards and paid her only half the amount of gold promised, which had prompted a meeting for all 312 High Warlocks on whether they should continue to collaborate with Shadowhunters, who were decidedly untrustworthy. It had been a complete waste of time, with everyone talking over each other and trying to catch up with friends after years. And then Luke had showed up at his place at dusk, asking for help with an unforeseen situation and Magnus could not refuse, given that, firstly, he liked the werewolf, and secondly, New York was his jurisdiction and under his protection.

It however did not mean he could not be resentful of the fact that one of his guest rooms currently had a pile of stinking, undoubtedly rotting corpses lying on the floor, separated from the expensive Turkish rug by only a thin layer of plastic he had conjured up. He understood that the bodies would be conspicuous in the middle of the street, but having to portal them to his impeccably decorated penthouse was not his idea of fun.

“What are these things again?” Luke was pacing in the living room, a frown on his face, as though he could change Magnus’s answer by asking again.

Magnus exhaled and let himself drop onto one of the couches, conjuring up a martini as he decided he might as well have that drink he needed. “I told you,” he said patiently, “that I don’t know exactly what they were, but they definitely had demon blood, werewolf blood and possibly some Seelie blood. I have seen nothing like it before.”

“Like some sort of ultimate Downworlder hybrid?” Luke asked, running his fingers through his short beard, looking more agitated than Magnus had ever seen him. “The Clave is going to have a field day with this. Who knows how far this might push their anti-Downworlder agenda?”

“You worry too much,” Magnus tried to make his tone soothing, though he privately had similar concerns. It had been years since the last time he had needed to reassure Luke like this, when he had been like a son to Magnus before growing older to being his friend. “Remember the Harlem Flop incident?”

Luke’s lips stretched into a reluctant smile at the memory. “I suppose you’re right,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Now, tell me, how is your Shadowhunter?” Magnus enquired. “Still in the honeymoon phase?” He was pleased with the bright grin that Luke shot his way at the mention of the redhead.

“Not much different from you and _your_ Shadowhunter, I assume,” Luke shot right back, and Magnus had to admit he had a point.

Speaking of Shadowhunters, the warlock sensed Nephilim energy and someone knocked at the door. A flick of the wrist, a flash of light and it slid open to let in Izzy Lightwood, who strode in confidently, looking impeccable in a navy dress and thigh-high boots, a briefcase in her right hand. Magnus often thought she had inherited all of the Lightwoods’ fashion sense, leaving her older brother with a wardrobe full of black tees, black pants, black jackets, and black socks.

“Isabelle,” Magnus began, “you’re-”

“-not the Lightwood you were hoping to see,” Izzy interrupted with a teasing smile. “But Alec is on a mission and wouldn’t be of much help anyway. He cannot distinguish a lobster cell from a cow cell.”

“Fair enough,” the warlock acknowledged, putting his glass down onto the coffee table and started walking to the guest room, Izzy and Luke following him. “The creatures are in here.”

“Interesting,” she remarked as she saw the bodies, immediately crouching down next to them and opening the briefcase to pull on a lab coat and a pair of rubber gloves before removing some test-tubes, a Q-tip and zip-lock bags. “They look so much like the forsaken. And you say they have demon, werewolf and faerie blood?”

 “It would appear so,” Magnus sighed, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

“And how did you discover them?” She prodded, beginning to take samples of tissues.

“Maia was on patrol today and smelled them inside a warehouse,” Luke responded, going to stand beside Magnus. “She knew something was wrong and reported back to me. We set up the ambush and fought them off.”

“And they just dropped dead?” Izzy turned to look at them incredulously, and Magnus tried not to let her disbelief get to him. He reminded himself that she was an ally, almost a sister to him, and was not discrediting their words because she did not trust him, that he had had a similar reaction when it had happened. He nodded, trying to keep his face as smooth as possible.

“Lucky you guys were there,” Izzy answered and smiled a little guiltily at him, apparently sensing his discomfort at how her words had come across. “At least now we know there’s trouble brewing.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” Luke voiced out. “We still don’t know what Valentine is up to.”

“This might be a clue.” Izzy stood up and turned to look at Magnus. “Can you portal the bodies back to the Institute? I want to do a full-body analysis in addition to the tissue ones.”

Magnus nodded and complied, watching as the bodies disappeared through the portal.

“By the way” he asked, just before Lizzy stepped through. “What kind of mission is Alec on, again?”

“Some sort of demon backstage in Broadway,” she replied. “Apparently it was trying to disrupt the showing of Hamilton. Alec took it very personally, for some reason.”

Magnus chuckled in response, memories of Alec attempting the rap and failing while frying bacon fresh in his head. “He would,” he answered, as Izzy waved and left.

“You should leave too,” he said to Luke. “Your pack will be waiting.”

“Call me if there’s anything,” Luke made to leave. “And thanks again, Magnus.”

“You’re very welcome.” Magnus smiled in response, walking Luke to the door.

As the door clicked shut, Magnus took out his phone and flicked on the screen. For the first time that day, he had nothing to distract him from the nagging worry that had been brewing in the back of his head. No missed calls or unread messages, which was unusual, considering Alec’s endearing habit of sending him ridiculous pictures every few hours, be it a random squirrel or a weirdly-shaped cloud.  

His boyfriend had probably climbed into the vents and watching Hamilton secretly. Maybe he had a mountain of reports to file. Perhaps his mother had sent him on an impromptu trip to Idris again.

Alexander was okay. He was a highly-trained Shadowhunter, a skilled soldier. He had to be okay.  

* * *

                          

Jocelyn walked briskly to her old apartment, glad to be able to breathe in some fresh air. It had been a blessing in disguise that Luke had cancelled dinner because of some werewolf business. Maryse had already given her authorization to leave the Institute, which meant that Jocelyn had extra free time away from the Shadowhunters’ prying eyes. Years of anonymity had given her a sense of privacy, and the voyeuristic lifestyle at the Institute was hard to reacclimatize herself to.

She wondered how it had all gone so completely wrong. She was only trying to protect her daughter and had ended up endangering her beyond imagination. Valentine was on the loose, and Clary was unprepared, untrained, and it was all Jocelyn’s fault for keeping her heritage a secret from her.

She had one last secret though, one that could potentially enable them to understand the next step her estranged husband –she hated to think of him as her husband, but it was still the truth- might take, and it was in the little package she had kept hidden for years.     

Reaching the apartment, Jocelyn climbed up the fire escape two steps at a time, hurrying as much as possible in case the glamour wore off and the people around saw her. She nudged the living room window, counting on the faulty latch to open up the window.

Once in the dark room, she pulled out her Witchlight, and in the glow, she made out the features of the place she had called home for eighteen years. She felt a pang to her chest as she looked at the destroyed furniture, the gooey remnants of some demon on the floor, the burnt rooms. She could still make out little lines on the wall, where Clary had measured her height every year since she was four. She could still see the ghosts of Clary and Luke – her little family – eating pancakes on Sunday mornings.

Shaking her head a little, Jocelyn headed straight for her bedroom. Moving the bedside table aside, she activated a strength rune and ripped the floorboard apart, cursing herself for not using a silence rune at the resounding cracking sound which followed. Underneath, however, in a space covered with concealment runes, was the little cloth bundle she had protected for years. This was it, the only way they would be able to predict Valentine’s next move and stop him.

Picking the package up, she put it in an inside coat pocket and turned to leave. She needed to go back to the Institute. This could be their only hope.

* * *

 

 

“What are you doing here?” Simon hated how squeaky his voice sounded, but he really was not expecting to see Jace Whatever-His-Last-Name-Is standing in front of him.

“I needed a moment away from the Institute, and somehow, the _Jade Wolf_ seemed appropriate,” Jace said with a grimace. “Though, what are _you_ doing here?” He looked around at the numerous canoes stacked on top of one another. “Surely,” he asked, eyes widening in horror, “you don’t _sleep_ here? I’m sure even you have higher standards than that.”

“Ha ha,” Simon said drily, going to sit on one of the canoes. “Raphael kicked me out, remember? And the werewolves don’t like me much.”

“They don’t like me much either. And neither do most Shadowhunters for that matter,” the Shadowhunter answered, sitting down on a canoe opposite Simon, and really it was unfair how he made the whole thing look like a Vogue photoshoot or something. “They still think I am some sort of spy for Valentine. Apparently, my escape was too “convenient”. Barely anyone talks to me except for Alec, Izzy and Clary.”

“Well, you did go full Dark Side for a moment there,” Simon shrugged. “Everyone thought you’d be Anakin, even though you turned out to be Luke.”

“A napkin?” Jace looked baffled. “And I’m not Luke. I’m Jace, remember? Are you suffering from blood deprivation or something?”

“Star Wars reference,” Simon explained, looking everywhere except at the blond man in front of him, slightly embarrassed at his inner nerd coming out full force. Ha, coming out. “Figures you wouldn’t know the movies.”

“Well,” Jace leaned back, a thoughtful look on his face. “I have plenty of time and nowhere to be. Show me your world, vampire.”

“You want to watch Star Wars with me?” Simon could not believe his ears. What the hell was going on?

“Sure. I need to get some food first, though. I’m not sure whatever you have in that thermos is going to be particularly edible for me.”

* * *

 

 

Alec’s head was pounding as he regained consciousness. His right temple prickled with pain and a damp sensation on the side of his face informed him that he was probably bleeding. He blinked a few times to clear his head, but the small room remained dark and cold. He could feel his Stele in his back jeans pocket, but couldn’t muster the strength to reach out and draw an iratze. In fact, he couldn’t gather enough strength to do anything but just sit there, back against the wall and blink slowly. His throat was parched and he tried to remember how he had gotten there in the first place, but his mind just drew a blank.

“You’re finally awake, Shadowhunter,” a voice said to Alec’s left, and he slowly turned his neck to look at the old man sitting against another wall, the slight movement leaving him drained and drowsy. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t.”

“What,” Alec’s head was spinning and he tried again. “What is this place?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be here,” the old man stretched his arms over his head, as if to shake off sleep, and Alec saw he had talons instead of fingers. A warlock. “But I do know that the chances of you and me getting out of here are really slim.”

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a comment to let me know what you think!! Also, come talk to me on tumblr, if that's your type of thing: thedreamingowl.tumblr.com


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